


First

by DataAngel (TheNinth)



Category: Being Human (UK)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 01:36:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2292101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNinth/pseuds/DataAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the fic_promptly prompt "Being Human, George/Mitchell, first time having sex with a werewolf."</p>
            </blockquote>





	First

In hindsight, he kind of expected this to happen. They spent so much time together in and out of work and they'd fallen into this strange, easy friendship despite the fact that George was... George. It wasn't just the werewolf thing. It was George's brain. The way it worked. How sometimes George was the funniest thing on two legs and then in an instant he was completely oblivious to humour and had to have jokes explained to him.

It was endearing in a way, this sudden cluelessness of his. Mitchell especially liked the way George would aggressively flirt with a woman and then be confused when she flirted back. It was like he never expected it to happen. Or maybe he didn't want it to happen.

"Oh my _God_ , George!" Mitchell laughed and took a drag of his cigarette. George was standing in the narrow alley behind the hospital, hands shoved deep in his pockets, his jacket sliding down off his shoulders and his glasses crooked. "She fucking _kissed_ you like you were the last man on earth and you said _what?_ "

"I. Asked her. If she had finished. With her newspaper." George muttered.

"You've been after her for weeks. What the hell happened?"

George shrugged and seemed to shrink further into his clothes.

Mitchell flicked the cigarette into a puddle and stepped to George. He carefully corrected George's glasses. Then he grabbed the collar of George's jacket and pulled it back into place. 

Standing there, holding George's jacket and looking directly into those blue eyes, Mitchell was suddenly acutely aware of George's "otherness". "Oh," he said. And then "Ah."

"Mitchell, wh--" George started. Before he could finish the word "what", Mitchell kissed him.

George pushed him back. Mitchell always forgot that George grew stronger as the full moon drew closer and the push literally stunned him for a second as he hit the wall. 

George was there before he could fall. George, pressing him against the wall, hands on his face, kissing him fiercely and with more teeth than necessary. Mitchell grabbed George's hips and pulled him in, working his thigh between George's legs, aware that George was already hard.

"When's your shift end?" George growled He _growled_ and now Mitchell was hard too.

"Four more hours." Mitchell was panting, tugging at George's shirt, mind racing through all the possible places they could go to take care of this _right fucking now_.

George grabbed Mitchell's arm and led him further down the alley, to an alcove that had once been the entrance to the hospital's morgue (and oh the times Mitchell had had in that morgue!). The door was bricked over, but there was still room for two people to hide.

They were kissing again. Still desperate and frantic. Mitchell managed to undo George's jeans and shoved his hands in, grasping George's dick indelicately. 

George grabbed Mitchell's shoulders and buried his face against his neck. He was still growling and the scent -- _that_ scent that marked him as a werewolf -- was getting deep into Mitchell's lungs. How the others found that smell repulsive was beyond him. 

"Fuck me, George." Mitchell sounded more desperate than he wanted to. Felt more desperate than he wanted to. George was equally powerful right now -- possibly even more so -- and _damn_ that was a turn-on. 

George turned Mitchell around and pulled his scrubs down, then shoved his own jeans down low. He rubbed against Mitchell, leaning close and speaking right into his ear. "I have no clue what I'm doing."

Mitchell laughed, because that was such a George thing to say. "Just fuck me already, you idiot."

"But don't we need..."

Mitchell pressed back against him. "Not the time to be overanalysing things, George." He reached back and stroked George's dick, revving things back up again.

"Right." George stuttered. "Yes." And he put his hands on Mitchell's hips and pushed....

They both knew that neither of them could hurt the other. They were both beyond human. George flirted with women because that's what he wanted, but he ran from them because of what he was. He _wanted_ girls, but he _needed_ Mitchell. 

Mitchell thrust back against George and fisted his own dick. It was over in minutes that felt like only seconds and then they were done. George was leaning against the wall, panting, tucking himself back in. His glasses were crooked again.

Mitchell got his own clothes back in order and then straightened George's glasses. He gave George a teasing kiss on the nose.

"Now you've smudged them," George complained.

"Take them off next time."

"Next time?" It was almost a squeak. The tips of George's ridiculous ears turned pink.

Mitchell bounced on his toes and then started sprinting back toward the hospital. Hopefully no one noticed his smoke break had gone on so long. "Next time. We'll do it right."

George polished his lenses and grinned. "Next time."


End file.
